“Take a look at your pistols, boys!”
Hicks began to tremble.
“Let me go,” he groaned, “and I’ll tell the truth.”
“Tell the truth!” shouted the men, “and we’ll see.”
“Colonel Deming,” Hicks began, “is the boys’ grandfather. Their mother married against his wishes. He disinherited her, and made a will that Chesterton, a distant relative, should fall heir to the Deming plantation, which is very valuable, if no children of his daughter were found before January 1st, 1864.
“Chesterton learned about the two lads and hired me to keep the two boys out of sight. I didn’t mean to harm them.”
“Like blazes you didn’t!” cried the spokesman. “You deserted them when the Indians broke out.
“Boys, get a rope; the fellow is too rank rotten for our bullets!”
An officer with a patrol came along and inquired what all the row was about, and the teamsters told him the story, which was corroborated by Barker.
“I don’t want him hanged,” Barker added, “but I don’t want to see his face again.